In that summer of 1948 when I first went to live on the farm with my sister, Lois and her husband Ray Carter, she belonged to a home demonstration club named the Ben Franklin Hustlers. The club met once a month in a different home and worked on worthwhile projects to give to people who needed help. The hostess served refreshments and the afternoon was spent making lovely things. I enjoyed that club. It lasted for 47 more years and a few years ago I went to a meeting with my sister and my mother. The club died because most of the members were gone.

One of those women who went to club was Ann Bever. She and her husband Rex lived across the road from Lois and Ray. They were good neighbors. Ann had a brother a little older than me who was visiting her and he asked me to go out with him. I was delighted because he was good-looking and very nice. We had fun, going to the movies and spending time at the lake. The hot summer days were just right for swimming and lounging near the water.

One day the threshers came to the farm and I learned first hand about cooking big meals. The neighbor women met at one house and pooled their energy and their food to feed that hungry group of men. I had always wanted to cook but my mother didn't like me to mess up her kitchen so this was my first opportunity to prepare all the food all I wanted. My sister and I fried chickens and ham, made salads, cooked potatoes and vegetables and baked pies and cakes. There was a mountain of food and those threshers nearly inhaled it.

That's when I discovered that when you cook a mountain of food you have a mountain of dirty dishes to do. Somehow washing all those dishes wasn't near as much fun as cooking.

Ray felt I was being unfair to the young men on the threshing crew by devoting all of my time to Ann's brother. He thought I should pay more attention to those young farm boy threshers. I was glad to oblige and practice a little flirting.

It was the high point of my summer and I felt bad when Ann's brother left to go home. Threshing season was over and the young men went back to their farms.

I was anxious for school to start so I could meet new friends. My sister started making clothes for me to wear to school. Girls wore skirts in that day and I thought the dresses she made were lovely. Chicken feed came in cloth sacks. The material was pretty, it had dainty flowers on it. When my sister bought her chicken feed I went with her so we could choose the sacks we wanted. We spent time finding just the right material. Picking out the prettiest material was as exciting as buying a new dress.

That summer of 1948 seems as close as yesterday. How could it have been 50 years ago?